


eat your heart out

by olive2read



Category: Actor RPF, Rocketman (2019) RPF, Scottish Actor RPF, Welsh Actor RPF
Genre: HEA ending, M/M, Podfic Welcome, all about that angst, miscommunications and misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 12:19:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20209636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olive2read/pseuds/olive2read
Summary: Miscommunication and poor timing threatens to tear them apart





	1. announcement

**Author's Note:**

> An AU where Taron & Richard have been dating since not long after they met. This story begins in September on the red carpet for the 2019 Emmy Awards (which neither of our boys attended irl).

###### Taron

“Eat your heart out, Taron Egerton.” The camera zoomed in on the impressive ring occupying a very specific finger. Taron stared at the screen in shock. That … that seemed like a very large diamond on Emilia’s hand.

The interviewer, sniffing massive gossip, jumped at the bait. “What does Taron have to do with it? Is he a former flame?”

She smirked and looked right at the camera. “Taron? Not one of _mine_, no.” She winked. “It’s a bit of an inside joke. He’ll understand the reference, though.”

Taron shook his head, his eyes wide. He didn’t understand. He had no idea what Emilia meant and this ‘joke’ didn’t feel especially funny.

Dickie came up behind her on the screen and wrapped an arm around her waist, smiling genially at the interviewer and the cameras.

“We hear congratulations are in order,” the interviewer said heartily.

Dickie ducked his head, a shy smile spreading across his face. “Ah feel very fortunate,” was all he said before the couple moved on and the next celebrities came into the frame. 

Taron turned off the telly and sank into the couch cushions, pulling his knees up to his chest. His phone buzzed, and buzzed, and buzzed, bouncing along the table as his notifications exploded. He unlocked it, ignoring the constant stream of banners and buzzes, and set it to ‘do not disturb’ with only certain people allowed to get through. The change to silence was immediate and Taron breathed out in relief. He debated for awhile over removing Dickie’s name from the list, as he didn’t think he was up to talking to him just at the moment, but he decided to leave it. He knew it was unlikely Dickie would reach out to him, he hated calling and texting in general and he was about to be seated at a banquet where he’d think it the height of rudeness to text his boyfriend.

His boyfriend. Would that term still apply? Taron swallowed. He ran over the red-carpet moment again and again, trying to find any other way to interpret what had happened. 

His phone rang and he recognised the notification as Jamie’s. “Mate!” He tried to inject his voice with joviality as he picked up.

Jamie exhaled. “Oh, thank god, you haven’t seen it.”

Taron’s heart sank. “I-I have, actually.”

“Fuck, Taron. What the _fuck_ was that? Did you know? Please tell me this is something you know about, that this isn’t what it looks like.”

Taron chewed on his lip, debating what to say. “Ah, no, I-I don’t know. He didn’t tell me. I mean, I knew she was going to be his date, but he said they were going as friends because she didn’t want to go stag and her partner’s out of town or something. He was just supposed to be doing her a favour.” Jamie scoffed and Taron sighed. “I don’t know what this means, Jamie. I’m trying to think of anything that it could be besides what it looks like but I’m coming up blank.”

“Right,” Jamie declared, “I’m coming over. We’re going out. Put on something with flash. I’ll be there in twenty.”

Taron wanted to protest but Jamie had already disconnected, likely knowing that if he let Taron say anything it would be ‘no.’ Going out wasn’t remotely appealing right now but, then, neither was sitting at home and fretting about the way his relationship may have just imploded.

Taron tried to remind himself that Dickie wasn’t the sort of person to make an announcement like that on the red carpet. He cultivated his media persona very carefully and he had a whole code of conduct about how to handle conversations about relationships and the future. He wouldn’t simply kiss Taron goodbye and then turn up engaged on a red carpet two days later. He wouldn’t. Taron didn’t know what was going on but he trusted Dickie. He nodded to himself and went to get dressed.

* * *

When he stumbled in a few hours later, euphoric from his night with Jamie, he checked the winners and noted with pride that the Bodyguard had won. Everyone had laid odds on Game of Thrones, as they’d dominated all of the categories in the nominations, but clearly the awards committee had recognised the superior show, even if they’d been too shortsighted to give Dickie his own nod. He sent off a quick “Congrats, love! ❤️” and fell into bed.


	2. anxiety

###### Taron

Taron paced. Dickie – no, Richard, Taron needed to remember to think of him as Richard now. Dickie was his boyfriend and Richard was this stranger who’d taken his place – was due to land at any minute. Would he come to the flat to collect his things? Surely if he did, it wouldn’t be today, right? He chewed on his lower lip and kept pacing. 

Taron had tried to cling to the belief that nothing was wrong, that the engagement announcement had been some sort of aberration that he’d misunderstood, and had waited patiently for the call from Dickie – _RICH_ard – to explain what had happened. When it not only failed to come but Richard also ignored his texts, he’d started to worry. Richard didn’t like texting but it was rare for a whole day to go by without at least some kind of response or acknowledgement … and it had been a week. He’d also rejected all of Taron’s calls and attempts to video chat and a ball of dread had been building steadily inside Taron.

He couldn’t seem to stop the spiralling of the what-ifs. What if Richard still wanted a ‘normal’ life? When they’d first started dating, Richard had confessed that he’d waited to approach Taron for months because part of him still clung to the idea of marrying a socially acceptable woman and having children with her. He’d admired Emilia for ages and she fit his socially-acceptable criteria perfectly. What if Richard had been hedging his bets? He’d refused to come out publicly and Taron had tried to be supportive but it had long been a point of friction in their relationship. Now he wouldn’t need to. Then there was the worst one of all - what if this were true and Taron had simply missed all of the signs? He’d been so happy with Richard that he could’ve been assuming Richard felt the same way and ignoring anything else. He felt like he was going mad as these thoughts raced around his brain.

Now Richard would be here, in London, and Taron knew that meant they’d be face-to-face soon. Richard’s code of conduct had very specific rules on things that should be said in person and breaking up with someone was definitely on that list. He’d had to put it off the whole week he’d been gone, he probably wouldn’t feel right letting it linger much longer. So he would come here at some point, and soon.

Footsteps sounded in the hall and Taron froze. He crossed slowly to the door when the buzzer rang, reminding himself that Richard wouldn’t use the doorbell. He had keys after all. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Package for you, sir. Sign here please.” The delivery person thrust an oblong box and then the scanner pad at him. Taron signed his name without really looking, eyes fixed on the box. “Thank you, sir.”

He nodded vaguely and closed the door, crossing to set the package down on the coffee table. There was really only one thing it could be. He tore off the tape and carefully withdrew the contents. 

It hit him, then, in a way it hadn’t before. Richard could be coming here to tell him, officially, that they were over. This would likely be the last gift he bought. He thought about the champagne in the fridge and his stomach twisted. Much like the gift, he’d bought it last week after Richard had flown out to LA in anticipation of celebrating Richard’s success ... but Richard wouldn’t be celebrating with him, he’d have been celebrating with his new fiancée and would just have to make a quick stop to give Taron the heave in person before returning to that.

He couldn’t do it. He could feel his heart beating hard in his chest as his breathing sped up. He didn’t care if it made him a coward. He couldn’t sit here and wait for the moment Richard got around to ending things. He called Elton.

“My dear boy, how are you holding up?”

“Elton, I-I can’t be here.” Taron’s voice broke. “He-he’s going to come here t-to tell me it’s over and-and I _can’t_.”

“Taron, love, I’m sending a car. Right now, d’you hear me? Pack a bag. The car will be there in ten minutes, love. Taron?”

Taron realised he’d been nodding instead of answering. “Yeah, alright, thanks, Elton.”

“Ten minutes, love. We’ll sort it out when you get here. Now, go and pack your toothbrush.”

“Right, ok, yeah, I can do that.”

“I’m staying on the phone until the car arrives. Have you got your toothbrush?”

Elton talked him through packing a small bag and Taron followed his instructions in a daze. All too quickly he was standing by the door, bag in one hand, eyes fixed on the gift still sitting on the table.

“Sh-should I leave a note?”

“Entirely up to you, lad. Don’t worry about it if it doesn’t feel right.”

Taron took a breath and set down his bag. He grabbed a sheet of note paper from the pad in the kitchen and sat on the couch. “What do I say?”

“Oh, Taron, love, I don’t know. You don’t have to say anything, sweetheart.”

Taron swallowed. “I-I can’t just leave, Elton.”

Elton sighed. “I know, lad.”

Taron stared at the paper in front of him for a long time. The car was ready downstairs but Elton told him to take his time and he was so very grateful for his friend’s love and kindness as he tried to write something, anything, to the man that held his heart.

He finally scrawled a few short sentences, folded the paper and wrote ‘Richard’ on the flap, then set it on top of the gift. 

He grabbed his bag and let himself out of the flat, pulling a pair of sunglasses on as tears streamed down his face.


	3. angst

###### Richard

“Taron, love, are ye here?” Richard let himself in to the dark, silent flat and frowned. It was unlike Taron to leave him on his own for his first night back but perhaps something had happened. He flipped on the lights, dropping his phone and keys on the entry table, and took his bags into the bedroom.

Washing his face in the bathroom sink a few minutes later, he realised that Taron’s toothbrush was missing. He frowned and looked around. There were a few other things missing from the shower as well. His breathing sped up and he charged back into the bedroom. Most of Taron’s clothes and things were still in place but the diamond earring from Elton and his Tiny Dancer jacket were gone. The jacket Richard could’ve written off as Taron having gone out but he rarely wore the diamond, preferring to keep it safe at home.

He went out into the sitting room to check his phone and saw the note sitting on the coffee table. Taking the few steps over to it felt like wading through molasses and he nearly dropped it when he tried to pick it up, his fingers were shaking so hard.

> Congrats, R  
I wish you all the best  
❤️
> 
> PS – champagne in the fridge, enjoy

Richard sat heavily on the couch and read it through again. There was something uncomfortably final in that second line. They’d been happy a week ago, he was sure of it. He’d never been so happy in his life as he was with Taron and he’d have sworn it was the same for both of them.

He got unsteadily to his feet and grabbed his phone, turning it on. Instantly, he was inundated with notifications, which was why he’d turned the wretched thing off in the first place. His phone had been blowing up since the night of the ceremony and he’d turned it off before the banquet had even started. He ignored the flurry and clicked on Taron’s contact information. A twinge of unease hit him when he saw the history of unanswered texts but that alone wouldn’t account for this. Taron knew he hated his phone and only barely tolerated texting, so a couple of days without word wouldn’t be anything new for them. Granted, he didn’t usually turn it off for more than a day or two at a time, and this had been over a week, but each time he’d considered turning it back on, the flood of notifications had been overwhelming and he’d left it off. He pulled up the messages, scrolling back to his last reply to read through them in order.

_Eight days ago_  
**T: Congrats, love! ❤️**

_Seven days ago_  
**T: Morning love congrats again!!**  
**What did Emilia mean btw?**

_Four days ago_  
**T: You around love? Really need to hear your voice rn**  
**Dickie?**

_Two days ago_  
**T: Dickie pls call me back**

_Yesterday_  
**T: Dickie?**

He frowned. Normally if he left his phone off for any length of time, he’d have five or six texts per day from Taron. He was constantly sending hearts and links and memes and any thought that crossed his mind that he thought Richard would enjoy. This was less than one per day and, other than the first, all of a very different tone from his usual lively banter. Also, what did Emilia have to do with anything?

He lurched to his feet at the sound of a key in the lock and rushed over to the door. He opened his arms to swoop Taron into them, only to be confronted with a glowering Jamie. His arms lowered slowly back down to his sides.

“Jamie?”

Jamie glared at him. “I didn’t realise you’d come here tonight. I’ll come back another time.” He turned on his heel and stormed down the hall.

“Jamie, wait!” Richard dashed after him. He caught up and clapped a hand on Jamie’s shoulder, which was immediately shrugged off.

“What do you want, Rich?”

“Jamie, wha’s goin’ on? Where’s Taron?”

Jamie shook his head, anger simmering. “That’s none of your concern.” He sneered and Richard stepped back in surprise. “Where’s _Emilia_? How’s the wedding planning?”

Richard’s brow furrowed and he shook his head. “Et’s _absolutely_ my fucking concern, Jamie. Wha’s goin’ on, mate? Wha’ does Emilia hafta do wi’ Taron?”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “You mean, apart from the fact that your engagement to her broke his fucking heart?”

The world lurched to a halt but Richard kept spinning. He put out a hand to catch himself on the wall, trying to keep his balance. “Wha’?”

Jamie raised an eyebrow. “Your engagement? The one you announced on the red carpet?”

Richard felt the blood drain from his face and his legs gave out as he connected the timing of his notifications frenzy with what Jamie was saying. He’d thought it odd at the time that his phone had been going off _before_ the banquet and the win for the show but he hadn’t given it much thought as he generally ignored that aspect of his fame. “_Wha’_? No. Ah did _no_ such thing, Jamie.”

Jamie knelt beside him and some of his anger had faded, turning to confusion. “You did, though, Rich. I watched it. She waved that diamond at the cameras and you said you were thankful or happy or something.”

Richard’s head was still spinning. “Aye, _she’s_ engaged but no’ te _me_. Her girlfriend popped the question the night before. They’re very happy.” He looked up into Jamie’s eyes. “Ah can understand the press making that assumption but no’ _Taron_, mate.”

Jamie sighed. “It was what she said, Rich. She called him out by name and implied that he was an ex of yours. When Taron didn’t hear from you, he didn’t know what to think. He tried to reach out, Rich, he called you a dozen times a day, but you never answered. The first couple days he assumed you just had your phone off but after that …” Jamie trailed off, shaking his head. “He panicked.”

“Ah need te see him, Jamie. Where es he?”

Jamie shook his head again, getting back to his feet. “You should call him, Rich. I’m just here to pick up a few things.” He looked sadly down at where Richard sat, still recovering from the shock, and then stepped around him and into the flat.

Richard got carefully to his feet and stumbled back into the flat behind him. He sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands. 

On his way out, Jamie dropped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Call him, Rich,” he said softly, then left, closing the door behind him.

Richard looked at his phone and swallowed. Before he could convince himself not to, he pressed call. It went directly to voicemail, which was odd. Unlike Richard, Taron never turned his phone off. He went into the bedroom and pulled his laptop out of his carryon. Sitting on the bed, he searched for ‘Richard Madden engagement,’ more than a little sick to his stomach at the number of hits that popped up. He clicked on one of the video links.

* * *

Emilia’s smile filled the screen. “Eat your heart out, Taron Egerton,” she said cheekily as the shot zoomed in to the sizeable ring glittering on her hand.

“What does Taron have to do with it? Is he a former flame?” the interviewer asked, clearly salivating at the prospect of juicy gossip.

Emilia smirked. “Taron? Not one of _mine_, no.” She winked. “It’s a bit of an inside joke. He’ll understand the reference, though.”

Richard watched himself come up behind her and wrap an arm around her waist, his broad ‘red-carpet’ smile plastered on his face.

“We hear congratulations are in order,” the interviewer told him and he remembered this now. He’d assumed she was making some kind of reference to his nomination.

“Ah feel very fortunate,” he heard himself say.

* * *

Well, fuck. He understood the reference, all right, but he could see how it could’ve been misinterpreted. Emilia, newly engaged to her girlfriend, was not-so-subtly calling him out for keeping his relationship with Taron a secret and hoping that she could light a fire under Taron to demand they be out publicly. She’d probably assumed that Richard had already shared the happy news with Taron and that Taron, well known for his adoration of all things sparkly, would be pining for a diamond of his own. Taron, of course, would never demand that Richard come out before he was ready but Richard knew he’d been chafing at not being able to date each other openly.

He called Taron, again, and was shunted to voicemail, again. He tossed his phone on the coffee table and only then noticed the box sitting there. He opened it carefully and drew out a long, slender black photo frame that contained a series of candid shots. In one, he smoothed Taron’s lapels on a red carpet, in another, they gazed fondly at each other on a break from shooting, in the third, they’d wrapped each other in a tight hug, and the final shot was Taron kissing his cheek, both of them so deliriously happy, at the comic con after party. He traced a finger down Taron’s face in the last photo and called again. When it went to voice mail yet again, he went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of whisky, then took himself to bed.  
  


###### One week later

On the third ring, the call was answered. Richard had been calling every day, multiple times a day, and this was the first time it had actually rung, much less been answered. He’d been terrified Taron would never speak to him again, that he’d left it too long. He held his breath but nothing came through from the other end.

“Taron?” he asked tentatively.

“Hullo, Rich,” Taron said tonelessly and Richard felt it like a slap to the face. Taron hadn’t called him anything but Dickie, or mate, or – Richard swallowed – love, in nearly a year. He’d certainly never called him ‘Rich,’ as Jamie and so many others did, and the significance of this new moniker was too painful to contemplate.

“How are yeh?”

There was no answer for an eternity. Finally, Taron sighed. “Is there a reason you called?”

A shiver of cold ran down Richard’s spine. “Aye, Taron. I-I need te talk te you.” Silence. Richard swallowed again. Taron had never been the calm, quiet type and Richard felt the cold spreading out through his body at the change in his demeanour. “Will-will yeh meet me somewhere?”

Minutes passed. Richard had known this conversation would be challenging but it had never once occurred to him that Taron would be so altered as to be practically unrecognisable on the other side of it. He hated that he couldn’t see Taron’s face and could only listen with increasing foreboding to the long silences.

“Why?” The word was so quiet, barely a whisper, Richard nearly missed it.

“Wha’?”

He heard Taron sigh and a rustle of something but he couldn’t parse the sound. “Why do you want to meet?”

Richard’s brow furrowed. “Jus’ te talk, Taron. There are things Ah need te say te you that should be said en person.” There was a strange sound on the other end, something like a muffled sob, and pain flashed through Richard’s heart. “Taron?”

“I don’t,” a pause, a quiet sniffle, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please, Taron, I jus’ need a few minutes.” Another sniffle, louder this time. Fucking hell, it killed him to hear Taron crying and not to be there. “Taron–”

“No, Rich. I-I don’t think it’s necessary at this point. I’m pretty sure I’ve worked it out.” He disconnected.

“Taron, wait!” Richard stared at his phone in disbelief. He frantically pressed call again but it went directly to voicemail. He hung up. He hated leaving messages and his anxiety about not knowing what to say was a thousand times worse, in this moment, than it normally was when confronted with the gaping void of voicemail. 

Fuck.

He had to try, though. He took a deep breath and once again pressed call. When the tone sounded, he froze for a moment, then swallowed and said shakily, “Taron, et’s no’ wha’ you’re thinkin’, love. Please. Please, love. I –” his voice broke but he pushed through, “there are so many things I need te tell you. Ah’m sorry, Taron. Please–” Another tone and he was cut off. He called again and this time, when the tone sounded, he felt his gut clench and his throat dried out and he started to shake. He only managed to say, “Ah’m sorry, Taron, love. Please call me back,” before he got cut off again.

He curled into a ball on the couch, shivering with reaction. Not for the first time, he wished that he could just say what he needed to say, that the words would come more easily, that someone would hand him the script for his life and he could cloak himself in the comfort of a role someone else had designed, complete with applicable mannerisms and skill sets. He took himself to bed, changing into one of Taron’s shirts and pressing his nose into Taron’s pillow as the tears rolled down his face.


	4. arrangement

###### Richard

Richard awoke the next morning with a new determination. Wallowing and waiting for Taron wasn’t working. He needed a plan. 

His first call was to Emilia. He didn’t think she’d mind but he wanted to check in before he said anything. He invited her to lunch and after they’d ordered, he explained the situation in fits and starts, partly due to the interruptions from the service staff as they delivered drinks and food, but mostly because Richard hadn’t realised how hard it would be to talk to Emilia, or anyone, about this. He just kept hearing Taron using that flat voice and refusing to see him.

“Oh god, Richard, I’m so sorry.” Emilia’s eyes were as large as the plate in front of her. “What can I do? Do you want me to call him?”

He shook his head. “No, Ah need te talk to him. Ah’m just hoping to clear the air and Ah don’ wan’ te share yer private business wi’ the world.”

Emilia laughed. “Oh, bless you, Richard. It’s not private. I’m out. I gave an interview yesterday and I’ve got another scheduled for tomorrow. The mainstream media is simply ignoring the story in the hopes it will go away if they keep telling everyone I’m marrying you. You’d be doing us a favour, really, by setting the record straight.” She paused, clearly trying to decide how to say the next thing. “And are you, Richard?” He raised a questioning eyebrow. Emilia bit her lip before continuing. “Are you setting the record _straight_? Or will you be telling the _truth_?”

Richard expelled his breath on a big sigh. “The truth, Ah think. Et’s the only thing Ah can give him.”

Emilia put her hand over his and squeezed. “You have a lot to give him, Richard. Just make sure he knows you’re giving it.” She smiled at Richard’s frown. “He can’t say yes if you don’t ask. Tell him what he means to you, Richard. Be brave.”

He gave her a shaky smile and nodded. “Ah will.”

* * *

After lunch he called his agent, apologised for having been off the grid, and told him to set up an interview. That done he took a deep breath and called Elton.

“Richard, lad, this is a surprise. How are you?”

“Pretty fucking terrible, Elton.” He felt a sob try to burst its way out of his throat and swallowed around it. “Ah’m guessing yeh know he’s left me.”

Elton was silent for a moment. “That isn’t quite how I’d heard it but, yes, I’m aware.”

“Ah-Ah’m not engaged te Emilia, Elton. Ah never was. Not ever. She’s marrying her girlfriend.” Richard sniffed as the tears he’d tried to hold back poured free.

“Oh. Oh, I see. Oh, dear. Oh, my poor dear boy. I’m sending you a car, Richard. Come for tea and tell me all about it.”

Richard wiped his face. It meant more than he could express that Elton understood and wouldn’t make him have this conversation over the phone. “Thank you, Elton.”

The call disconnected and Richard curled up to cry on the couch. When his phone pinged that the car was downstairs, he got up to wash his face in the bathroom and then headed out.

He was relieved to see Elton waiting on the steps for him as the car pulled in. He got out and was immediately enfolded in his warm embrace. He felt his tears start up again as Elton pressed his face against him and kissed his cheek. When he’d calmed enough to pull back, Elton handed him a gorgeous monogrammed handkerchief and kissed his forehead. 

“Come along, lad. Let’s get you a nice cuppa.”

He followed Elton through the house and out to the back, where a lovely tea had been laid. Sitting down, Elton took hold of his left hand and squeezed. Richard took a wobbly sip of tea, then another, and sat back, giving Elton a watery smile.

“Have you told him?” Elton got right to the point.

Richard looked down at his lap. “He won’t take my calls an’ the one time he did, Ah dunno wha’ happened but et just made et worse.”

Elton squeezed his hand. “What do you want Richard?” 

Richard’s head jerked up in confusion. “Ah want _him_.”

Elton waved this off. “Yes, yes, lad, I _know_, but what does that mean?” Richard’s brow furrowed as Elton continued. “Are you most upset that _he’s_ left you, that he’s _left_ you, or that he’s left _you_?”

Richard’s head spun. “The first one, Ah think? He’s, ah, God, Elton, he’s et fer me. He brings me such joy an’ Ah want him te be happy. Tha’s, tha’s really all Ah want.” He swallowed.

Elton considered him a moment. “And if his happiness doesn’t include you?”

Richard put his face in his hands and took a few deep breaths. “God, Ah don’ know. Ah-Ah guess Ah’ll figure et out. Ah don’ wan’ te have lost him, the idea Ah have is killin’ me, but if Ah have, then Ah have.”

Elton smiled. “Good lad. Well, then, what do you propose to do about it?”

Richard swallowed and clung to the hope that this plan would work. “Ah, em, Ah need your help wi’ sommat, ef yer willing?”


	5. astonishment

###### Taron: three days later

Taron listened to Richard’s messages over and over. It was a bit of a mindfuck that they were the first, and likely to be the last, he’d ever had from Richard. He knew he was obsessing but he couldn’t seem to stop. Part of him was furious at Richard for daring to still call him ‘love’ and part of him desperately needed to know exactly what Richard meant. He couldn’t quite bring himself to call though. The thought that he’d misunderstood somehow was bleak but the thought that he hadn’t … well. It really didn’t bear thinking about.

He’d spent the last couple of weeks tramping around the Welsh countryside. Elton had, of course, offered to put him up for as long as he wanted but he’d needed to come home. He needed to be far away from London for a bit. He didn’t know how he was ever going to face his flat again but he had some time before his next project kicked off and so he was allowing himself a bit of a wallow. His flat was a problem for future Taron. 

Normally on his visits home, his mum would round everyone up and they’d have a proper do but she’d apparently sensed that he needed peace and quiet this time, as he’d hardly seen anyone and even his family had been tiptoeing around him. His mum would bring him tea and food and shoo him out of the kitchen if he tried to make himself useful. That alone told him she was treating him delicately. Normally, he’d have been put to work first thing on a visit. So he walked and listened to Richard’s voice apologising and walked some more.

As he returned this afternoon, he had just pulled off his wellies to leave them on the porch when his mum came rushing out. “Taron, love, is that you? Oh, it is, thank goodness.”

Taron’s brow furrowed. “Is everything alright, mum?”

“Yes, love, I’m fine but there’s something you need to see on telly.”

Taron sighed. He knew his mum meant well by trying to tempt his interest but he was exhausted and didn’t much fancy watching whatever it was. “Thanks, but I think I’m just gonna lie down for a bit, mum.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Taron David Egerton, this is _important_! I’m not asking you to watch reruns of Eastenders with me! Come and see this!” So saying, she grabbed ahold of his arm and towed him inside, then pushed him down on the couch. Taron’s stomach dropped as Richard’s face smiled at him from the screen. 

He swallowed. “Mum, I don’t think I can watch this.”

She hushed him and picked up the remote. “Trust me, love. You need to see this.”

Taron closed his eyes and nodded. He pulled his feet up and wrapped his arms around his knees, hiding his face and gritting his teeth.

* * *

“Hello everyone and thank you for joining us! We’re here with luscious leading man, Richard Madden, who has come to give us the ex_clu_sive scoop on his engagement to his former Game of Thrones co-star, Emilia Clarke.”

* * *

Taron groaned. “Mum, please, I don’t want to hear this.”

She sat next to him and rubbed his back gently. “You do, love. You really do.” She leaned her head on his shoulder and he sighed.

* * *

“So, Richard, _everyone_ is talking about that _wild_ announcement on the Emmy red carpet and that _fabulous_ ring. Can we zoom in on the ring? Ohmigod, _so fab_. So, tell us _everything_! How long had you two been dating before you popped the question?”

Richard smiled and looked directly at the camera. “We hadn’t dated, actually, an’ _Ah_ dint pop that particular question. We’re good friends, and she was a lovely date fer the Emmy Awards, but we’re no’ gettin’ married.”

The interviewer tried to maintain her smile as she looked blankly at him. “Sorry? But-but the _ring_ ... ?”

Richard swallowed. “S’lovely, isn’t et? Emilia isn’t engaged te _me_, though, she’s engaged te her girlfriend. An’,” another look directly at the camera, “we’d both like te say how sorry we are for any confusion we caused.”

The interviewer looked back and forth between Richard and the camera, clearly unprepared to handle this information. “Her _girl_friend?”

Richard smiled his best leading man smile. “Aye. She gave an interview yesterday, et’ll be en next month’s issue of Out magazine, where she tells the whole story of the proposal. They’ve been dating fer years, quite openly. She had a bit of a laugh, te be honest, when people assumed she meant she’d gotten engaged te _me_.” 

The interviewer forced a smile. “Well, that’s good news for our lady viewers then! Good to know you’re still on the market!”

Richard’s smile faltered a bit, then smoothed back out. “Ah’m sorry te disappoint yeh, an’ yer lady viewers, but Ah’m no’ on the market. Ah’m well an’ truly taken.”

The interviewers eyes widened and some of the avid gleam of gossip came back to life in them. “Oh ho! You heard it here first, everyone. Some lucky lady has snagged the eye of Richard Madden! Stay tuned to find out who it is!”

* * *

Taron’s stomach roiled as his mum fast forwarded through the adverts. He couldn’t process what he’d heard. Richard wasn’t engaged but he wasn’t on the market either. Did that mean … ? He went to stand up, needing to pace or run or _something_ to vent some of the energy building inside him, but his mum put a firm hand on his shoulder and pressed him back into the couch.

“Mum, please.”

“Nearly there, love. You need to see the whole thing.”

Taron didn’t want to hope but as he looked at his mum’s eyes, sparkling with excitement, he felt the tiniest sliver of a new shoot begin to grow just the same.

* * *

“We’re _back_ with Richard Madden, here to tell us _all_ about the new leading lady in his life. That’s right folks, he’s _not_ engaged to Emilia Clarke but another lucky minx has captured his eye!” She turned to Richard. “So, Richard. _Who_ is she? What’s she _like_? Where did you _meet_?”

Richard swallowed and his face flushed. He smoothed his hands down his trouser legs and took a deep breath. “Well, et’s not a-a ‘she,’ actually, et’s a he, a, a bloke. An’ he’s no’ jus’ captured my eye,” he looked directly at the camera, “he has all of ma heart.”

The interviewer looked a bit green but rallied quickly. “Well, how-how lovely for you both. What, ah, what else can you tell us about him?”

Richard’s smile grew softer, more genuine. “He’s immensely talented an’ he’s my favourite person en the world.”

“Does this talented man have a name?”

Richard shook his head. “Tha’s no’ mine te tell.”

The interviewer looked at the camera. “Well, everyone, you heard it here first. Simply _shocking_ revelations about–”

* * *

Taron’s mum clicked off the telly and patted his leg, then got up and went into the kitchen.

Taron stared at the now blank screen as though transfixed. Richard had just come out on television. He wasn’t engaged and he was publicly out. Taron didn’t know what to do, what to think, how to feel. A few weeks ago, this had been everything he’d wanted. He’d hated the need to keep their relationship secret, even though he’d understood, and had longed for the day they could be themselves in public. Now Richard was out and he’d told the world that a bloke had captured his heart. 

Suddenly the energy that had been building inside him exploded and Taron couldn’t sit still any more and he needed to _go_ somewhere. He took the three steps to the door in a rush and threw it wide, calling back over his shoulder, “Mum! I’m going out for a bit!”

Turning to leave he came face-to-face with Richard, who slowly lowered the hand he’d raised to knock. Taron closed the door behind him, then stood there and just stared Richard for a moment. He felt Richard’s gaze on him as well, searing its way across his skin. For his part, he took in the new circles under Richard’s eyes and frowned at what he was wearing.

“Is that my shirt?” The words were out of his mouth before he realised they were forming on his tongue and he closed his eyes for a moment. He hadn’t seen Richard in nearly three weeks and he’d had so many other words planned for a potential meeting. Then again, he wasn’t sure which of those other words, if any, would have fit the awkwardness of seeing him immediately after watching that interview.

Richard looked down at himself and flushed. “Aye.” They stood there for another minute, neither saying anything, just staring at each other. Finally Richard exhaled and spoke up. “Taron, god, et’s good te see you. Can-can we talk?”

Taron swallowed. He stepped up to Richard, crowding into his space and more than a little surprised that Richard didn’t back away. “Is it me?” he demanded. 

Richard’s brow furrowed. “Ah don’ know wha’ yeh mean, Taron, but the answer is probably yes. Et’s always you. You’re et.”

Taron gritted his teeth. For some reason he found himself spoiling for a fight and Richard wasn’t giving him an excuse he could use. “I mean in the interview, Rich.” Richard’s eyes widened. “This bloke that has your heart,” he glared at Richard. “Is it me?”

Richard smiled tentatively and nodded. “Aye, Taron. Ah love you.”

Taron blinked at him, the urge to fight overtaken by surprise. “What?”

Richard searched his gaze. “Ah love you, Taron. Ah’m sorry. Ah should’ve said it ages ago. Ah call you love all the time and Ah think Ah jus’ assumed you knew but Ah should’ve told you.”

Taron took a step back, missed his footing, and stumbled until he fell against the door. Richard reached out to him but Taron shook his head and Richard dropped his hand. “Why are you here, Rich?”

Richard bit his lip and looked down at his feet, then took a deep breath and met Taron’s gaze. “To tell yeh Ah love yeh. Et’s something that should be said en person. There’s more I want te say, need te say, but that’s the most important bit.”

Taron’s eyes widened. Something that should be said in person. Oh, god. He fumbled for the doorknob behind him, opened the door, slipped inside, and slammed it closed. He leaned against it, breathing heavily, heart thudding, the room spinning around him, and slid slowly to the floor, stunned. Richard loved him. He was publicly out and he’d driven to bloody Wales to tell Taron that he loved him. He shook his head, his thoughts all jumbled around but didn’t seem to get any clearer.  
  


###### Richard

Richard stared at the door in horror. He’d told Taron that he loved him and Taron had fled. He swayed a little on his feet, swallowed, and tried to concentrate on breathing as he slowly turned and walked back to the car.

He sat in the driver’s seat but he couldn’t get his eyes to focus. He wasn’t crying, he wasn’t … anything. His whole body felt numb.

He propped his right arm against the steering wheel, his elbow resting against the window, and dropped his head on to it. Leaning forward like this, the box in his pocket began to dig in to his hip uncomfortably so he took it out and rolled it between his fingers.

Well, fuck.

His phone buzzed and hope flared. He dug it out of his back pocket, then ignored the call when he saw it wasn’t Taron. Whoever it was could fucking well wait. Richard needed a moment, or ten – or a lifetime – to come back to himself.


	6. always

###### Taron

After a moment, once he’d got his breath back, Taron realised that the man he loved was on the wrong side of the door and that, maybe, running away and slamming a door in his face _weren’t_ the best ways to respond to a declaration of love, at least, not when one wanted the other person to know it was reciprocated.

“Fuck!”

“Language!” his mum called from the kitchen.

“Sorry, mum!” He got slowly to his feet and opened the door. 

Richard was gone. Taron frowned. He couldn’t have gone far, Taron’s panic attack couldn’t have lasted more than a couple of minutes. He took a few steps along the path and caught sight of Richard, sitting in his car, forehead resting on his arm.

He took a few tentative steps toward the car, then firmed his resolve and strode over, letting himself in on the passenger side. 

Richard looked glumly up at him then returned his gaze to his knees. 

“I’m sorry,” Taron began. “I-I panicked.” Richard’s mouth ticked up in a half-hearted smile but he didn’t look at him. “I’d just seen that interview and then you were here and …” He trailed off and sighed, shaking his head. None of that was what he needed to say. “I love you, too, Richard.”

Richard’s face lifted, alight with hope, and Taron reached for him, threading his hands into Richard’s hair and bringing their mouths together. Richard groaned and pulled Taron to him. It was a bit awkward in the confined space but Taron didn’t care. All he cared about was the man in his arms. 

They spent some time relearning the shape and taste of each other’s mouths, neither willing to break away for more than a second.

Taron finally pulled back when he could no longer ignore the discomfort of leaning across the gear shift. “Will you come inside?”

Dickie nodded and they clambered out of the car. Taron hurried over to him and wrapped his arms around him, needing to touch him again to prove that he was real, that this was happening.

“God, I’ve missed you, Dickie,” he said, smiling at him and reaching down to take his hand, intending to take him inside.

Dickie’s breath caught and he stood fast, pulling Taron back toward him. He put a hand on Taron’s cheek and searched his eyes. “Am I te be Dickie again, then?” he asked.

Taron flushed. “Is that alright?”

Dickie kissed him. “Aye, T, thank god. Et’s been terrible hearing you call me ‘Rich.’”

Taron smiled and kissed him back. “I’m sorry, Dickie. I-I know it was a misunderstanding but I couldn’t think of you as Dickie when I thought you were ending things.”

Dickie shook his head. “No, Ah’m sorry. Ef Ah’d been willing to send a simple text, and not so bloody focused on hating ma phone, there wouldn’t have been any confusion. Ah took yeh fer granted, Taron. Ah’ll probably never _enjoy_ ma phone but Ah won’t turn it off again, either. Ah jus’ want you te be happy.”

Taron kissed him again. “_You_ make me happy, Dickie.” He gave Dickie an arch look. “At least, when you’re not running off getting engaged to other people.”

Dickie smiled and went down on one knee. Taron’s breath caught in his throat as Dickie withdrew a small box from his pocket. “Ah have a way te prevent that,” he said, holding the box out to Taron and opening it slowly.

Inside was a thick band of gems of various colours, fiery white diamonds to deep blue sapphires to lively green emeralds, all arranged around a bright ruby-red central heart and all sparkling wildly in the afternoon light. It was a dazzling disco ball of a ring and Taron loved it fiercely at first sight, nearly as much as he loved the man holding it out to him.

“Dickie?” he breathed.

Dickie smiled. “Ah figure ef Ah’m engaged – or married – te the man Ah love, he won’t ever have te wonder again.”

Taron reached shaking fingers toward the ring. “Dickie, this is ...” Words failed him as he slid it on over his finger, rubbing his opposite thumb over the central heart.

Dickie searched his gaze. “Will yeh, then, Taron?”

Taron nodded and Dickie swept him up in his arms and kissed him thoroughly. After a moment, Taron pulled back. “I left my phone inside but do you have yours?”

Dickie raised an eyebrow. “You? Not have yer phone?”

Taron flushed. “It’s, ah, it’s turned off, actually.” Dickie’s other eyebrow joined the first and Taron smiled at him sheepishly. “They’re rather obnoxious, really, pinging constantly and never with the things I actually _WANT_.”

Dickie burst out laughing and hugged Taron tightly to him. “God, Ah love yeh, T.” Taron pressed his palm against Dickie’s chest, both to feel Dickie’s heart and to admire the look of the ring on his finger. Dickie’s hand came up over his and they laced their fingers together. They smiled at each other for a long moment and then Dickie leaned in to kiss him, raising his phone in his other hand.

He showed the snap to Taron, their hands clasped over Dickie’s heart, the ring prominently visible and covering them in hundreds of tiny prisms of reflected light, their faces smiling as they kissed. Taron gasped. It was perfect. Dickie kissed his cheek and whispered, “Eat your heart out, Taron Egerton.”


End file.
